we are broken
by planetaries
Summary: "I don't always know what's going on," he says carefully. "Me, either, James." / Dominique and James, and the aftermath of Fred's death.


**title:** we are broken

**words:** 2130

**to:** jade isabelle, my amazing sister. get well soon, i love you!

**trigger warnings:** yes, i'm sorry, but these are necessary, sissy. I didn't think it would turn out so... triggery, so be careful, everyone. contains mentions of suicide and vivid descriptions of an alcohol addiction. read at your own risk.

**other things to mention:** cousincest. if you don't like it, don't read it.

* * *

"what a shame we all became such fragile, broken things."

_let the flames begin_

paramore

* * *

"'cause we are broken  
what must we do to restore  
our innocence  
and oh, the promise we adored?  
give us life again  
'cause we just wanna be whole"

_we are broken_

paramore

* * *

[one]

Dominique leans against the side of the Burrow, letting the snow fall onto her bare shoulders. She twirls a lit cigarette around her fingers and puts it out in the snow, in plain sight. There is a ring of her red lipstick staining the white snow, and she almost smiles.

James sighs from beside her. He's on his second cigarette, and the butt of his first is carelessly tossed out into the snow in front of them. He grabs a bottle of firewhiskey from the snow on his other side. He takes a swig from it and passes it to Dominique, who does the same.

It burns going down like it always does, but she's had so much in the last three days it almost tastes like water now. James, too. He's almost surprised they aren't dead right now, but he knows no one could handle that—not now, anyway.

James wants to look at her, to take in every last detail of her face and every wave in her blonde hair and to breathe in the scent of her skin… Out of the corner of his eye, he sees. She is clad in a black cardigan that is slipping off of her shoulders, and mini-skirt of all things, and her favorite black high heels. It's her, alright. Only Dominique Weasley.

"You wore that to the funeral?" He nods to her, fumbling with a match and another cigarette.

She takes another swig because he said that because he didn't know what to say next, and he knows very well that she did wear it. She rolls her eyes.

"Aren't you cold?" He tries again, cigarette between his teeth.

She's so cold she's shaking and her teeth are chattering. "No," she says instead, because, really, James is shit at trying small talk when there is an elephant in the room.

Snow falls, and somewhere not far from them, snow slides down the graveside of Fred Weasley, and Dominique thinks bitterly if this is what he wanted when he did what he did.

Did he really want them to fall apart? Because that seems to be what's going on. The Weasley family is falling the fuck apart all because Fred killed himself and left everyone else to pick up the pieces.

Dominique passes the bottle to James and she lights another cigarette, and they sit there until they are numb from the cold and can't remember why they were sitting there in the first place.

[two]

Six months later he finds her sitting in a carriage by herself, riding up for her last year at Hogwarts isolated and scared. Dominique Weasley is a complete mess, James can tell. Her hair is still blonde, like always, but it isn't shiny and long like it used to be, before. She's cut it all choppy and he wonders if she washed it today and doubts it. Her breath smells like cigarettes and firewhiskey.

She been like this ever since the phone call, the one where she picked up the phone to hear Rose sobbing, "He's dead, Fred—killed himself."

"What happened to you, Dom?" he asks quietly, taking a seat across from her. He's cleaned up and has come to terms with everything about a month after that night at the Burrow. Sure, they'd drink together after that, passing around a bottle of god knows what around, relishing the way it burned going down their throats. But James stopped. He put that behind him.

Dominique never stopped because Dominique never stops for anything _(or any_one_ for that matter)_.

Dominique looks out the window, rain clinging to the windows of the enclosed carriage. Her breath fogs up the glass, and she draws what looks like a broken heart with the hand that isn't holding a cigarette. She wipes away the heart after staring at it for a minute.

She shrugs. "No idea," and she takes another drag as if he asked her the weather.

James sighs. "You can't keep doing this."

"It's my life, James. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

The carriage pulls to a stop and she gets out, crushing the butt of her cigarette under her shoe. She acts like she doesn't care, but James watches her catch her breath as she takes in Hogwarts castle, because it's always been her favorite place to be.

"Come on, James," she says, beginning the walk up to the double doors.

[three]

She was never one for the start of term feast. She pulls James along with her, up to the Astronomy Tower. She lights yet another cigarette and watches the smoke float up to the dreary raining sky, not caring that she is soaked by the raindrops.

She walks along the edge, wondering if this was where it happened, if this was the spot Fred jumped from. She shivers, and James can tell it's not from the chill in the air.

"This is it," she says.

He wonders if Dominique will be the second Weasley to jump from that very spot, and he prays to whatever might be up there that she isn't.

[four]

"I wish someone could save me from myself," she whispers to the autumn sky.

[five]

"Dom, I've been thinking," he starts.

"Fuck off, James."

She's sitting on the top of the Astronomy Tower, her legs dangling into the sky below her. James has gotten used to a cigarette on her fingers like an extension of her right hand. Her blonde hair has grown in some since the first day at Hogwarts, exactly one month ago.

"No, Dom, just listen. You look like you could… use someone to talk to. I'm worried about you."

"What, like a fucking therapist?" she spits. "No thanks, I'm good."

"No, I mean… just someone to talk to. Like a friend."

"I've _got_ friends, James."

James bites his lip and grabs a cigarette from the pack Dominique has left on the edge of the Tower. He takes a drag, and then another.

"Stop looking at me like that. I really do have friends."

"_Fred_ was your friend."

"Fuck you."

[six]

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

"I'll be your friend," he says, because he doesn't know what to say next.

"Thanks, James."

[seven]

Around the castle, whispers of _DominiqueandJames _circulate around, until every corner and every corridor is filled with light. Students whispers, rumors circulate.

It's obvious that something has happened between them—everyone can tell. The sparkle is coming back into Dominique's blue eyes and she is constantly with James Potter and they are inseparable, like they used to be.

She is happier now than she has been since Fred's suicide, but all of her bad habits stay with her. She smokes a pack of cigarettes every day and the vodka or firewhiskey or whatever she can get her hands on keeps her sane.

[eight]

Autumn leaves change into snow as the months slip past. Dominique makes perfect snow angels and James throws snowball after snowball at her until she plays along and suddenly they are at war.

She's laughing so hard she's almost out of breath and James is grinning like an idiot and Dominique hasn't felt like this in such a long time.

Somehow, the falling snow makes it all seem like a fairytale during the day, but at night, all she can think about is how last December Fred broke himself and couldn't fix it.

[nine]

"To life," James says solemnly, raising his glass of firewhiskey.

"To life," Dominique echoes hollowly.

She's glad James is here with her to commemorate one year since Fred jumped off of this very spot.

Right now, he seems like the only thing keeping her from doing the same.

[ten]

After December the forth, she is back to being herself. James seems to understand her more now, how close they were, and how much she misses him and wishes she could have saved him.

So they lay in the snow the last night before Christmas holiday. The Hogwarts Express will be there at eight tomorrow morning to take them home.

"I don't always know what's going on," he says carefully.

He expects her to ask what he means or laugh because well, _that's obvious_, but instead she says, "Me either."

"It's just… that _you_… Fuck. I don't know how to say this. You drive me so fucking crazy, Dominique. I don't know what it is about you, but you just… I don't know."

She smiles, wishing she could see his face right now. "I know. It's the same thing for me. About you, I mean. There's something… different about you, this time. We've been friends before, before Fred came to Hogwarts, but, damn, is this time different."

"Yeah," he agrees. "That's it. _Different_," he repeats, but he's not sure if that's really it.

[eleven]

"You're home!"

The second James turns the handle of the Burrow's front door, a blast of warm air and the sound of at least twenty people talking fills his ears. He lets Dominique walk in first, and she is immediately scooped up into the arms of Grandma Molly.

"Oh, James, get over here, too!" He is pulled by the arm into the tight hug and he wonders when the last time he felt this at home was. Dominique is looking around the room with stars in her eyes, and he knows she's thinking the same thing.

The Burrow is filled with laughter and Lily pining over Teddy, Scorpius's arm snaked around Rose's waist, and various Weasley girls blushing around Lysander and Lorcan while the adults laugh at their antics.

From across the room, James smiles, and Dominique can't help but grin back, because they are finally home.

[twelve]

"I missed you."

Dominique has no idea why she's blushing, but she's is and she's glad it's so dark out. And then she's taken back to the fact that almost a year ago they sat just like this and the snow froze them in a permanently sad state. "Missed you, too, James," she manages. "You know we've been in the same house all day, right?"

"Right. Well, Merry Christmas."

Dominique checks her watch. 12:04. "Merry Christmas, James."

"I got you something," he says, accio-ing a crudely wrapped something and shoving it into her open hands. He's smiling, but there's something different about it. It's a sad smile, almost.

Her blue eyes glint with curiosity as she studies the package. She looks up at him uncertainly before he nods, and she rips it open. "Chocolate mousse flavored vodka, huh?"

He nods, not meeting her eyes.

She smiles before opening it and taking a swig. "James, what the hell? This is water." She slams the bottle in the snow in the space between them. "Water?"

James bites his lip. "You need to clean up," he says quietly after a minute. "I don't want you to keep doing this to yourself. You're my… My—"

She stares at him for a second trying to process what he's saying.

At the same time, James finishes with, "Whatever-you-are," as she retaliates with, "It's just… complicated."

"You've got to stop drinking."

"Fuck off," she says, taking her vodka bottle of water and standing up to pour it out in the snow before throwing it at him. It doesn't break until he throws it against the side of the house after she leaves him out in the snow to freeze.

[thirteen]

She does, though. It takes months of pain, sleepless nights, tears, and fifteen sessions with a therapist to help her finally get over Fred's death. There are more than a few broken bottles and a screaming match or two, and finally she accepts she could not save him. No one could, and she understands that now.

James watches her walk across the Great Hall and through the double doors for one last time and can't help but smile.

They have made it through seven whole years.

[fourteen]

They sit with their backs against the Burrow once more. It is their graduation party, and they have not separated since the Hogwarts Express took them home. Her blonde hair contrasts with his jet black hair as they mix together. Her head is on his shoulder, and he can't help but think that it feels so right.

"This would be an ideal time for a drink," she says seriously.

He knows she won't go back on the promises he made her in the last few months, so he sighs in agreement, knowing she has no intent on getting a drink.

He speaks up, "I figured out how to finish my sentence."

She turns her head slightly, so they are face to face. "Yeah?"

"My everything, Dominique."

She almost can't stop smiling long enough to kiss him softly, but she manages. "I love you, James."

* * *

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